


Sit On My Face and Tell Me That You Love Me

by LittleMousling, moogle62



Series: CM Chatfic [5]
Category: Crooked Media RPF
Genre: Comeplay, Established Relationship, Love and trust, Multi, Negotiated kink, Pet Names, Polyamory, Powerplay, Spanking, Surprises, facesitting, less safe sex, lots of cunnilingus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-10-12 18:46:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17472977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleMousling/pseuds/LittleMousling, https://archiveofourown.org/users/moogle62/pseuds/moogle62
Summary: Emily and Tommy have a plan for Jon, and in their plan, everyone finishes up pleased.





	Sit On My Face and Tell Me That You Love Me

Sometimes, Emily and Tommy plan things out for Jon. They wouldn’t plan just any scene this way; they get his buy-in on most things they do. But when it’s just a combination of things they’ve done before, when it’s mostly about sensation and pleasure—sometimes, they like to surprise him. 

They make him wait downstairs while Emily reviews the details of her idea with Tommy, the broad strokes of it. She knows, and likes knowing, that Jon’s downstairs pacing, getting excited. He love-hates this, the waiting and the not-knowing. He likes to be in on things, but he also likes to be surprised. Most of all, he likes being at Emily’s mercy, and even though she won’t be asking anything of him that he can’t easily give, she can at least keep him wondering what’s next. 

They get a little distracted, making out, while they talk about it. Emily can’t help herself; Tommy in planning mode is cute and excitable. She pulls back, after a minute or two, and sends Tommy to bring Jon to her. 

Once Jon’s inside the room, door closed against errant dogs and Lovetts, Tommy starts kissing him and easing his shirt off. Jon’s easy for it, melting against Tommy, ready to find out what else might be in store. Emily leans back on her hands and just enjoys herself, watching her two boys together. 

Tommy starts trying to get Jon into the headspace a little, yanking at his belt loops and the gaps between his buttons. He’s not pulling him off his feet or anything, but he’s forcing Jon to shift his balance, to let Tommy pull him in close. Just a little, kissing him between, cupping the back of his neck. Reminding him what his role is.

Tommy’s letting Jon rest his hands on Tommy's sides, and Emily can see the way Jon’s breath catches when Tommy touches the side of his neck. Tommy keeps kissing him, and stops to drag his shirt off his shoulders, bare his chest for them.

Emily whistles, mostly kidding, and then tells Jon he looks hot. “We’re going to make you feel so good tonight, baby. You’re going to be our sweet little pet tonight, aren’t you? You’re going to do everything we tell you to do.” 

He's so good for them always, their good boy, their good Jon.

Tommy tugs Jon’s pants down, leaves him in his boxers.

Emily gets up, then, comes up behind Jon and presses herself up against his back. She's dressed, but lightly, just pajama shorts and a tank top, and she knows he can feel her tits against him. She knows, but he doesn't, that he'll be able to feel the whole of her thighs on his skin when she's spanking him.

Jon is already warm, going easy for them, leaning back into Emily just to feel more of her. She runs her hands up his chest, over the muscles, liking the way it makes his breath catch. His jeans are still pooled round his ankles; he'd trip if he tried to move.

“Our handsome boy,” Emily murmurs, and Tommy hums approval. “Tommy, bring him to me when he’s ready.”

She just means “naked,” but Jon doesn’t know that. Let him anticipate being brought to her oiled and jeweled like a war prize, if he wants. She smirks, picturing it. They should do that some time.

He'd look good like that, stripped and shining and waiting for her, hard for her. He could be wearing a buttplug for them, something special from the shop Emily likes. Jon still gets skittish about assplay, for himself—something about how much he likes it; something he can't look at just yet—but he _does_ like it, would wear whatever Emily wanted and love it. He likes to be pretty for them.

But that's for another time. Right now, Emily just wants him on his knees.

Tommy holds Jon's hands while he steps out of his boxers, leans in and kisses him again, and then says, "Kneel down, baby," and Jon drops straight away, mouth slightly parted.

He's five, six feet away from where she's sitting on the edge of the bed. It's a big house; they've got a big bedroom. Emily likes watching Jon crawl to her across it, and they all know it. Jon waits to be told, though. "Go to Emily," Tommy tells him, and he moves toward her, slowly, his shoulder blades pushing up and down as his weight settles on one arm and then the other.

He kisses the outside of her ankle when he gets close enough, which is technically beyond what he was told to do, but Emily's not in the mood to demand strict adherence right now.

In fact, she likes it, and tilts her foot to the side, encouraging him. He takes the hint, kisses her ankle again, delicate on the thin skin over the bone, and then just above it, and then slowly up her calf, taking his time. He looks gorgeous like this, ready to service her however she demands.

Tommy, job done for now, settles into a sprawl against the headboard, behind her.

She keeps her attention on Jon. “Up here, baby,” and he stretches, still on his knees, to kiss her mouth. She tilts her head up after a minute so he can nibble her neck; she could use some warming up of her own, hot as everything about this already is.

He's good at this, knows where to linger and when to use more than a hint of teeth, knows that when she wraps a hand around the back of his neck he should stay there, right where he is. The bed shifts; Tommy, repositioning, presumably for a better view.

"That's good," Emily tells him, and he sinks back, ass-to-heels. "Take the rest off for me, now."

Jon wriggles out of the boxers without rising to his feet, awkward but gorgeous in his commitment to being good. She strokes his hair.

"Come up over my knee, now," she says, and hears his breath catch.

"Yeah?" and he's so eager to please, looking up at her from the floor.

"Yeah," she says, voice soft. "Come up here for me, that's it. All the way over my knee, you got it." Jon lies himself out, not giving her his weight at first, just draping himself over her legs so his chest presses against her thighs, so she can see the long planes of his back, his gorgeous shoulders.

She shoves in the middle of his back, not meanly, but plenty hard enough to make him drop. "There you go," she says. "Stay right there. Enjoy yourself. I know you're going to be so good for me, sweetheart."

There are a few ways she could do this; she decides, mostly on the spot, to warm him up slow and steady, easy taps that focus in on where it will arouse him most, low and inside, even down to the backs of his thighs. He'll know, from that, what she's going for—not overwhelming him, not just flooding him with endorphins, but wanting him to get off on it entirely literally.

She aims first for the meat of his ass, such as it is; Tommy's ass is rounder, curvier, and the one time she's put him over her knee so far, he took it silently, wonderfully, going pink and desperate under her palm. Jon is different, whimpers from the start unless it's part of the game for him not to, and he whimpers now when the first blow lands, glancing off him, a warm up.

"Mm, yeah," she says, smiling to herself. "Let us hear you." She hits him again, getting into a rhythm, a steady _smack-smack-smack_ that's peppered, beautifully, with Jon's noises.

She hears a slightly different smacking noise behind her and turns to see Tommy with his cock in his fist, stroking. He shrugs at her, grinning, and she flashes him a smirk and turns back to Jon.

"Can you hear that, baby? That's Tommy. You're so good he has to touch himself. You look so pretty being good for it, taking it for us." Jon's breath comes out in a long shaky exhale; Emily smacks him again, on the top of his thigh just under the curve of his ass, and he jerks, cock brushing against her. That's what she wants. Her own breath is coming faster, not just from exertion.

Jon, she suspects, is going to try his best to keep still until she tells him what she wants. She will; she just wants to enjoy him straining a little, first.

It takes another minute before he loses control again, hips grinding forward, and Emily groans from the feel of it.

Ehh. Fuck making him strain. She wants this, now, and she’s in charge. “That’s it, baby. Feels so good, doesn’t it? You should run up on me all you need, sweetheart.”

Jon groans again, hips jerking. "Feels so good, doesn't it? That's it," Emily says, as Jon jerks again, "that's it, oh my God."

This is sometimes more difficult for Jon than the heavier things they do, any of the shame or humiliation scenes they do, any of the extra toys. He finds it so hard to accept pleasure in bed, sometimes, to chase it just for himself.

He’s maybe under enough to have some of his inhibitions turned down, or maybe he just needs it too much not to obey. Either prospect is good for Emily. She stops spanking him to rub the warming skin of his ass and he gasps and pushes forward again.

His cock is wet, now—just a hint, but enough to make the slide on her thigh feel delicious.

"God," Tommy breathes, and Emily hears his pace pick up. Which is—hot, fuck, but she has other plans.

"Not so fast," she tells him, twisting over her shoulder to see him. "I need you later."

Jon jerks again, pushing against her thigh, and she digs her nails into the curve of his ass, savouring him.

“ _You_ can go as fast as you like, baby,” Emily tells Jon, and then hits him again, just a couple of sharp smacks where he’s gone pink across his ass. He thrusts forward, whining. He’s so fucking pretty like this, so sweet and needy. She wants to pet his hair, but not quite as much as she wants to dig both hands into his ass, kneading and pinching.

He twitches forwards again, cock rubbing up against her thigh. He's wetter now; it's heady, so good. She smacks him again, watching him jerk. "That’s it. Want you to feel good for me."

He looks broad like this, curled over her legs; the way he’s still somewhat bracing himself on the floor makes his back and shoulders bulge. She wants to see him strain more—not now, just an idea for another time, rolling through her head.

She curls her hands, digging her nails into the tender pink skin of his ass, and Jon whimpers again, jerking hard. "Tommy," she says, "tell Jon how good he's being."

Tommy grunts, and she hears him slam a hand on the bed, like he’s yanked it away from his cock. “Jon, you’re—God—so good. Taking it so well. So good for us like this. Do you, is it good?”

Jon groans, low and loud. “ _Yes_ ,” is all he says, but it’s ... fuck. Emily wants to get off, right now, just from that word.

She can wait, just, for what's coming after, when Jon is loose and spent and still eager to please, but she squeezes her thighs together for some relief, even if it's more of a tease. She digs her nails in harder, says, "Such a good boy for us, rubbing against my thigh," and Jon's hips hitch, losing rhythm.

He’s close, she thinks. She presses him closer, uses what leverage she can manage to force his cock to shove harder against her thigh. “Want you to come all over me, sweetheart, you gonna do that? Gonna rub right off? Should I—“ she spanks him again, a quick flurry of hits, and he shudders.

His hips are moving now like he can’t stop them; back toward her spanking, forward against her leg. He whines, and doesn’t quite stop, one long broken thread of it.

"Fuck," Tommy says, low, from behind them. "Oh, fuck, Jon, you look so—yeah, like that, so fucking good for us."

_Us_ , Emily thinks, low and happy in the pit of her stomach. The thrill of hearing Tommy say that still hasn't worn off and she doubts it will, no matter how long they're doing this. _Us_. It's good.

She smacks Jon again, short and sharp against his pretty pink skin, and tenses her thigh under him, giving him more pressure. "So pretty like this," she tells him. "Our good boy. Are you gonna come for us, sweet thing? Gonna get yourself all messy?"

"Y-yeah," Jon grunts, and he's trembling in her lap. "Em—Em—"

It's sudden, faster than she expected, wet and hot on her thigh; she's not sure she'd have even known, otherwise, because Jon's still panting and still moving against her, just the same.

"God, that's—yeah, come all over me, baby, that's it," and she feels the bed shift as Tommy climbs forward to see. There's nothing _to_ see, but she tips Jon back, as soon as she thinks he's done, until he's sitting on his heels and they can all admire the come on her legs.

"Look what you did," she tells him, turned on and proud and so fucking in love with him. "Look how good you are."

It's wet and obvious against her skin, and Jon can't stop looking at it even as he's still panting for breath, flushed all up his neck. He's not as flushed as Tommy, who pinks gorgeously up from his chest to his hairline, and who runs his finger through the mess on Emily's legs, brings it to his mouth and sucks.

"So good, Jon," he says. "That was—you're so good, you're perfect."

Fuck. Emily needs someone's mouth on her right now.

She shimmies out of her pyjama shorts; Jon's eyes go straight between her legs and she can almost see him expecting to crawl forwards and eat her out like that. Another time, she thinks, but now, God, she needs—

“Tommy, help me get him on the bed,” because Jon could get himself there but she wants to wrestle him up there, shove him gently and lovingly until he’s where she needs him, laid out flat.

“Gonna sit on your face,” she tells him, and his mouth opens, tongue flirting out to wet his lips. She doesn’t think it was even on purpose. “Do you need a pillow under your head?” 

Jon nods, and lifts his head obediently for Tommy to slide a pillow there. "Em," he says, looked sated and hungry all at once, eager as ever to give her what she wants. "Let me—yeah-—" and she's getting into place, kneeing her way up the bed to him, settling into position. His hands come up to cup her ass, long fingers perfect against her, and she lowers herself down, down, until she's close enough for him to lick a stripe all up her, no hesitating, making her shiver, nipples tight.

She just melts into it for a while, head back, not doing anything more complex than balancing and enjoying. She’s so fucking worked up, more than she thought she would be. They’ve done this before—but not with Tommy there, watching. Barely able to keep from getting himself off at the sight of it.

“Tommy,” she says, more faint than she intends it. “Tommy, he’s been so good, hasn’t he? He deserves a reward.”

Tommy has to clear his throat before he can speak, which is gratifying on a number of levels. When he does speak, his voice comes out rough. "Yeah," he says, and Emily can hear him moving closer. Jon's mouth is steady and insistent on her, long, broad strokes up her clit. "What—what do you want, Em? What can I give him?"

Her hips are twitching now, everything tight and hot and good. "Suck him," she says, raggedly. "Make him feel this good too."

Tommy makes a questioning noise. "He's," he says, "uh, he's not—"

Emily knows Jon's soft now. She still wants Tommy to blow him. "It's okay," she says. "He's so good. He deserves it." 

Jon doesn't make a noise, but his fingers tighten on her ass. They tighten more when the bed shifts, and Emily glances back to see Tommy mouthing him, gentle. He looks like he's relaxing into it, face and posture both, leaning his cheek on Jon's hip like he's ready to stay a while. He'll have to move when Jon hardens up, but for now it's—weirdly cute, actually. Sort of sweet.  
Jon sucks on her clit, and Emily stops giving a fuck about sweetness.

She's gonna—she's definitely going to come, no question, and she just about manages to slam out a hand, brace herself on the wall, before she does, riding it and riding it, Jon's tongue working her through it all the way. She feels dizzy when she's finished, but she doesn't feel _done_. She's got more to go.

She has the feeling this might be one of those nights where it’s hard to stop, hard not to chase every orgasm until she’s limp and trembling and _still_ wanting it.

Well. She did tell Tommy she’d want him, later.

This, now, though. “Don’t stop,” she tells them both, and Jon knows what she wants, gentle but focused work on her clit, just—so—good—

She shudders, rocking before she can help it, letting Jon rub his tongue right where she wants it. He's so good at this, always has been, ever since they'd talked it through in the early days when he'd been exhausted and running on a reputation and Emily had faked two orgasms before feeling comfortable enough to bring it up.

These days, he knows her noises and her needs, and when he doesn't know, he takes instruction beautifully. "Harder," she says, because she doesn't feel too sensitive now, and he listens, rolling his tongue on her.

She tilts back again and sees Jon's, fuck, mostly hard again in Tommy's mouth, and his thigh is twitching over Tommy's shoulder. Tommy's got fingers in him, she thinks; she can't quite see it but it would be Tommy's style. Or maybe he's just pressing his fingertips into the reddened skin of Jon's ass, making him feel it.

Jon can't tell her right now and Tommy's mouth is busy too, but she wants to _know_. "Isn't he pretty like this?" she says, breath hitching as Jon hits just the right angle. "Isn't he good? Don't you want to touch him all over, see how sensitive he is?"

She's pretty sure the way Tommy groans means yes. Jon twitches underneath her; whatever Tommy's doing is working for him, really working.

She wants to watch them, but not enough to stay twisted around like this, or to turn around entirely. She can hear them, at least, Tommy's slurps getting louder and faster. Jon's getting close, she thinks; he must be _hurting_ , getting off again this fast, and fuck, that's hot. "You've been so good, baby," she tells him, and strokes the hair off his forehead. She has to stop, to catch her breath, because his groan vibrates on her clit. "Do you like your reward? Does it feel like too much?"

Jon's mouth pulls off her, suddenly, his head twisting to the side, and he gasps and bites down on the soft skin of her upper thigh. She turns around again to watch Tommy suck him through it, come dripping down Jon's cock as it escapes Tommy's lips.

"Oh," she gasps, "oh, God," and her hips jerk, rocking to nothing, and she wants—she wants to grab Jon's hair and pull his head back where she wants it, oh _God_ —and then Jon turns his head himself, and she can feel his breath shaking against her, and then his tongue is on her, unsteady but firm, and it's enough, it's more than enough; she's coming again, tipping her head back, groaning.

She's shaking hard enough it's hard to stay up and steady over him, but she wants more, more, more. She doesn't feel close to done. She could roll over and make him eat her out that way, or— "Tommy," she says, gasping it. She shifts down Jon's body, seeking him out, and he meets her halfway, draping over her back.

"We should—condoms," Tommy groans. He's got his cock out, still, and it's wet-tipped against her thigh.

"Don't need them," Emily says. "We don't—fucking—Tommy, oh my God, just—" and she's too turned on to think about how to say it better, how to make it sound better; she just wants Tommy inside her and Jon looking at them like that, open and amazed, reaching out to stroke her thighs.

"Fuck-—" Tommy bites out, and then he's pressing into her, and she's rolling her hips back into him, dropping her forehead to Jon's chest. He's so fucking big in her, and she's so wet—he's just sliding in, easy, filling her up.

"That's so—fuck me, Tommy, you have to. Just like that, yeah," and his hands slide up from her hips to find her tits under her top.

" _Oh_ , fucking—fuck—" she's losing her words, pushing back against Tommy, panting as he finds her nipples, rolls them between his thick fingers. "Just like—yeah, like that, oh fuck—" and Tommy's getting close, she can feel it, has been close since he pushed inside her. "Don't come," she pants, "don't come yet, Tom, I need, I need—" and Tommy's swearing, thrusts erratic, Jon staring at them like he's the luckiest man alive.

She needs— "Jon, touch my clit," and he's on her immediately, a finger rolling her gently and then, when she pushes into it, harder. Her whole body is awash in sensation; she can feel the cliff-edge of the orgasm, just within reach. Just—just a little—

She crests it, elbows folding, Tommy pounding into her in quick little strokes that feel fucking incredible, that keep her body shivering. She's going to be jelly after this, and she smiles into Jon's chest, knowing they'll take care of her, pour her into bed and snuggle her. Tommy might lick his come out of her, first, so she doesn't have to get up. God, she's a lucky woman.

"Come for us, Tom," she tells him.

She feels him jerk inside her, fingers digging into her hips. "Em," he chokes, "yeah—oh-—" and he's coming, holding onto her so tight, his chest sweaty against her back. Jon still has his finger on Emily's clit and she shudders, an aftershock or another one, making her tighten up around Tommy, making him choke and pant behind her. His breath turns ragged and wet; he sounds so overcome. She runs her fingers through his hair, soothing him.

He pulls out of her, and Jon's fingers sneak back, dipping inside her for a moment. She doesn't need to look up to know he's sucking them, doesn't need the confirmation of the sound of him pulling them, clean, back out of his mouth. It's still hot, though, hearing it, and she kisses the bit of chest that's nearest her face.

"Someone's gotta clean me up," she says, a yawn distorting the words.

"Fuck, Em," Tommy says, and she can feel him shift and then his hands are on her, so big around her waist, and he's gently guiding her off Jon, onto her back. Jon curls against her as soon as she's still, nudging all along her, warm and present, as Tommy moves between her legs and lowers his mouth to her. She feels heavy, happy, good from her head to her toes, and it feels wonderful to have Tommy licking at her, slow, steady, tasting the two of them. She imagines maybe he could taste Jon too, tracing the path Jon's tongue had taken, just as careful, just as intent.

Tommy is careful and thorough, licking her clean with slow, firm strokes. He holds her thighs open, his big hands on her soft skin, and Jon nuzzles in closer, sighs contentedly.

"You were so good, baby," she tells him again, wriggling slightly under Tommy's tongue. She doesn't think she's going to come again, too tired and wrung out for that, but it feels good all the same, like when she holds Jon's hand against her like that for a while when they're done, steadying. She's going to hold Tommy too, when he's finished. They’re all going to need it, the three of them, tangled up together, curled up close in the middle of the bed.

She sighs, finally, and reaches down to pet Tommy’s hair. “Thanks, babe.”

He crawls up on her other side, drops a kiss on her shoulder, next to the strap of the top she’s somehow still wearing. She’s warm between her boys.

"Hey, Tom," Jon says, and Tommy reaches over Emily for him, Jon's eyes fluttering shut when they touch.

She’s wiped; it’s hard to keep her eyes open anymore. She sees the way Tommy settles his hand on Jon’s elbow, arm across her body, and the way Jon turns his hand around to squeeze Tommy’s arm. She feels, after, the way Jon turns his hand back down to rest on her belly. The weight of their arms is holding her down to earth; it feels like exactly what she needs. “Such good boys,” she says, barely voiced. She’s pretty sure they hear it, from the way they shift ever so slightly in towards her, breath warm on her shoulders. 

“Love you,” Jon says, sounding as muzzy as she feels. “Thank you.”

“Always, babe,” she says, and drifts off between them.


End file.
